MACAIRE. A wedding? Ah, and you're the bride.
ALINE. What makes you fancy that?
MACAIRE. Heavens, am I blind?
ALINE. Well, then, I wish I was.
MACAIRE. I take you at the word: have me.
ALINE. You will never be hanged for modesty.
MACAIRE. Modesty is for the poor: when one is rich and nobly born, 'tis but a clog. I love you. What is your name?
ALINE. Guess again, and you'll guess wrong. (ENTER THE OTHER SERVANTS WITH WINE BASKETS.) Here, set the wine down. No, that is the old Burgundy for the wedding party. These gentlemen must put up with a different bin. (SETTING WINE BEFORE MACAIRE AND BERTRAND, WHO ARE AT TABLE, L.)
MACAIRE (DRINKING). Vinegar, by the supreme Jove!
BERTRAND. Sold again!
MACAIRE. Now, Bertrand, mark me. (BEFORE THE SERVANTS HE EXCHANGES THE BOTTLE FOR THE ONE I
